


Teacher

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth [10]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Broadway, F/M, Fluff, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and his long-distance, Broadway star girlfriend, Kristiane are reunited in New York after five months apart. A lot of fluff, flirting and teasing, and innuendos. A hint of some drama to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> I stirred awake with the feel of fingertips along my cheek. I moaned at the pleasant, gentle prodding of my boyfriend to wake me. “If I open my eyes and you’re not there, I may go postal.”

Lining his body with mine, Tom pulled me deeper into his embrace, so I could feel every glorious inch of him. He hiked my leg over his hip and thrust his morning erection against my folds.

Grinning, I opened my eyes to my lover’s face, his look intent on me, the one that told me that he would stop at nothing to make me feel every inch of him. “And how long have you been  _up_ , sir?”

“All fucking night.” He captured my lips between his before I could laugh at his joke or mine.

For my reunion with Tom, we were celebrating in the very best way: orgasm after orgasm, as many times as we could until we were exhausted. For all the talking we’d done in the past few weeks, we were balancing it out with physical affection. We hadn’t yet graduated to phone sex since we’d only agreed to attempt the long distance thing a month ago.

Falling in love with Tom, however, turned me into a voracious lover; I couldn’t get enough of him. After knowing his touch for a week, then denied it for five months made me exceedingly hungry for him, and Tom was only too happy to comply with my demands on him. Not only that, but he had plenty and ample plans for me.

His appetite for me couldn’t be ignored. He made my toes curl and my fingers clench in the sheets or his longer hair or the muscles of his back.

There was a sense of freedom and abandon about how we loved each other and how we showed it. Unlike New Year’s and the days that followed, my lover was careful and tentative with me then, respecting my new found sexuality with him, respecting how inexperienced I was to avoid hurting me, afraid I’d break. He was still extremely respectful, but more in tune with my wants and needs, learning the scales of my cries of pleasure and how to play me. As he was exploring mine, I ventured into finding out what he liked.

Our lovemaking was on another level, and I was amazed at how an orgasm made me feel more like a woman than ever before, aware of more of my body, every muscle and pore. Tom had electrified every inch of me.

We connected, as we were free to love each other and express it in every possible way, in the same country, in the same time zone, in the same state, in the same room.

The fever to have each other every minute subsided but not until late Monday after spending nearly twenty four hours of his 120 hour visit in bed, or the floor, or the couch, or the shower. We’d severely depleted the box of condoms Terry gifted us as a blessing. I missed my dance class and my voice lesson in favor of finding another caress or nibble or look that drove Tom absolutely wild for me and sexual gratification.

We finally emerged from the bedroom and my apartment late evening on Monday for a previous engagement I had down in the village. Hand in hand we walked the few city blocks between my apartment and the A/C/E subway down to take us down to Washington Square Park. Joe’s Pub, where my friends performed cabaret shows, was only a few short block from the park.

“So tell me about this director you met with at Marvel,” I prompted curiously. This was a conversation we’d been attempting since he arrived in New York.

“Joss Whedon – do you know the name?”

“I think I do know that name, but tell me about the thing. Sounds exciting.”

“The superhero movies are taking off, hugely, and Marvel is at the lead. They’ve developed the best storylines from the comic books.”

“So how do you figure into all this?” Tom was under contract not to share a lot, and was really careful about not telling me specifics. Most of our conversation up to this point circled around his British television and theatre career. “You were the villain in this one, right? Doesn’t that mean that you’re kind of done or did you win? That might be a shit ending if the villain wins.”

Tom laughed in his silly way, the one I adored, and pulled me closer as we avoided people climbing the stair we descended to the train. He kissed the top of my head affectionately, following close behind me. “I played the villain… well, he’s more an anti-hero, a foil for his brother, a constant rival for Thor.”

I popped up, “I know that guy, the hammer guy.”

When the train arrived, we shuffled on and into a corner away from listening ears, to find what little privacy we could find on the subway. Tom stood against me, his body shielding from the rest of the car. Our eyes met as he explained more of his job and the new director in the picture. “The hammer guy is my brother… I’m the adopted brother from another realm.”

“Oh, Shakespeare, you are out of this world.” I ribboned my arms around his waist, craving more contact with him when he spoke of his life away from me. We agreed to give our relationship a try, but I couldn’t ignore the glaring truth that we might not work. Could we ever be in the same place at the same time for more than a week or two after spending months apart? Would we ever get to the point that we spent more time together than apart?

That earned another laugh. “Indeed I am. To make a long story short and without giving too much away, I’m defeated and believed dead.”

“But you’re not…” My hands snuck up under his t-shirt to splay over his scorching skin and firm strong back. He was irresistible and I couldn’t keep my hands off of him, nor did I want that. His penchant for touching transferred to me in our time together, my adopting his habit, making up for all we’d been missing in our separation.

“I’m not.”

“Spoiler.”

“I have ways of silencing you, gorgeous,” he teased, laying a kiss on my cheek.

“It’s already so complicated. Who would I tell?”

Tom told me his tale of talking about the character, the plot and the psychological work he’d researched to this new director. He told me that he’d signed a contract with Marvel to appear six movies, though they could choose to not use him if the story wasn’t there. The bottom line was Whedon scouted my boyfriend for the next movie in the series to play the big villain.

I furrowed my brow at him, utterly perplexed, searching his blue, blue eyes for some understanding. “You’re going to be a big deal. I underestimated what you were acting in, I think. When you have directors courting you…” I shook my head, playing over all this in my head. The performer part of me felt a little stab of jealousy, but the girlfriend part of me was beyond proud. “How are you so talented?”

He reached up and soothed the wrinkle in my forehead with his thumbs. I relaxed the look of utter puzzlement. “My Wilde one, I’m envious of your talent. You’ve excelled here in this world. I got lucky… I think Branaugh had a lot of pull in getting me this part. I auditioned for Thor.”

*

Arm in arm, Tom and I walked from the subway to Joe’s Pub, the warm summer night pleasant and the city sounds were in perfect harmony with it and us. My dear friend Chad was doing a cabaret show and asked all his Broadway singer friends to stop by and support him, just in case nobody else showed – always a fear with a performer. There was no chance of that with Chad, insanely, massively talented and recently nominated for a Tony, the bastard.

Tucking me under his arm, Tom asked, “How do you know this bloke?”

Without altering our step, I leaned up and kissed him sweetly. “Jealous?”

“Depends. Will he be making a move on you or me?”

I giggled breezily. “Chad’s gay, so I’ll need to keep my eye on you.”

“I can get used to this lack of competition for your heart, truly. Is that too terrible of me?”

“As long as you don’t exploit it, by forgetting my birthday or our anniversary – do we have an anniversary?” Would it be when we met? When he first kissed me onstage at the Globe? When he came to see my show? First made love? The first time we said those three little words that conveyed so much more than emotion? Or when we acknowledged that we were together (dating?)?

I had no idea.

Ignoring the reference to an anniversary, he playfully teased, “Your birthday is the ninth of February.”

“That’s yours, ass. August sixteenth.”

“I was close,” he said over a laugh. “Just checking that you knew mine. So Chad – how do you know him?”

“He was the Milky White to my Cinderella in a tour of Into the Woods.”

“Musical theatre speak again. I understood every other word.”

“Oh my Shakespeare, so misguided… I need to give you a crash course.”

“I’ll trade you. Comic book/Norse mythology lore for musical theatre.”

I winked at him as we arrived at the nightclub/theatre bar. “Deal! Drinks on you, sir.” I leaned into him, on my toes and intimated in a seductive growl, “You’ll have to test me later.” I nipped his lower lip between my teeth and fluttered my lashes at him.

Tom reached around and pinched my ass. “A thorough examination _coming right up_.”

We kissed, our tongues smashed together with the force of the kiss and it was heavenly. My foot elevated behind me as I wrapped my arms around him, enjoying the public display affection. When I pulled away, turning towards the door for performers to enter, I said, “Hard… I like them really hard.” I tugged on his hand to bring him along and follow me inside.

“Just call me teacher.”


End file.
